


shut up

by angelsprunch



Series: tumblr requests [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Oneshot, tumblr fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 14:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsprunch/pseuds/angelsprunch
Summary: stan accuses richie of being self centered.





	shut up

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking a small break from code orange to do some oneshot requests !! people have been sending requests to my tumblr @ fairyling !! if u want any feel free to send in a request !!

“Richie can you just shut the fuck up for once?”

Richie froze and looked over at Stan who was still laying in the grass with his eyes closed. He looked peaceful laying in the grass like that, but Richie felt anything but. “What do you mean for once?” he challenged, plucking blades of grass from the dirt while he willed his voice not to crack.

“You never know when to be quiet. You’re always blabbering on about something and a lot of the time it’s nonsense. If you were quiet for more than a minute maybe you’d hear what the rest of us had to say. Maybe you’d know a thing or two about your friends.”

“I know stuff about you guys.” he said, defensively. Richie took his glasses off and cleaned them with his shirt before sighing.

“Really? What’s Bill’s favorite color? Ben’s favorite season? When did Beverly really feel like she belonged with us?”

“Why do I have to know that stuff? It’s so specific. I know other stuff. I know that Eds doesn’t need his inhaler. I know that Mike still feels guilty about what happened with Bowers.”

“That stuff is still stuff about your friends. Everyone knows that Mike feels guilty and that Eddie’s illnesses are bullshit. Try actually listening to what the rest of us have to say instead of speaking over all of us.”

“Fuck you, Stan. I know shit about you guys.” Richie huffed. He pushed himself up off the ground and dropped all of the grass in his hands on Stan’s face. Stan opened his eyes and shut a glare at Richie as he scrambled to sit up. He opened his mouth to say something back, but Richie was already walking away. Stan sighed and brushed the grass away from his face before laying back down and watching the clouds.

Richie knew stuff about his friends. Or, he thought he did. He knew that Bill didn’t stutter when he was talking about things that were important to him so the stutter was probably, mostly, a mental thing. Mike was the best at understanding the losers and he was possibly the best listener. He offered the best advice and absolutely adored helping his friends. Eddie was scared of more than just germs and it was his mother’s fault. He was scared of how other people perceived him and he was scared of someone breaking him when he was so much stronger than anyone believed. Beverly fought better than any of the losers and she had more fire in her heart than even Bill. She had been thrown to the wolves so many times that she became one. Ben loved all of his friends more than he knew he was capable of and he was content just loving them, even if none of them reciprocated the way he felt. He never expected anything from them and that was why he was so delighted whenever the others so much as thought about him.

Richie stopped at the corner of the sidewalk by his house and dug a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. His hands shook as he plucked the last cigarette from the pack and lit it. Why his hands were shaking was beyond him, but Richie had never been good at identifying his emotions. He didn’t have the words for it like Ben did. He also never had the desire to recognize that he was capable of any emotions. The longer he spent thinking about how he felt the more he wanted some bullies to bash his face in until all he could think about was how their knuckles felt on his cheeks. “This is fucking bullshit.” he mumbled, taking a drag of his cigarette while the other hand shoved the now empty pack of cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of his windbreaker. “I know stuff about my friends. I’m not a bad friend. I’m not a bad person.” he huffed as he turned on his heel to go back to the park.

Stan went over the conversation in his head a few times while he felt the wind tickle his cheeks. Had he been harsh? Maybe. It wasn’t new for him to be harsh with Richie, though. Stan was just tired of every conversation being dominated by Richie. He wanted him to start to think a little about his friends. He was pulled from his thoughts when a sneaker nudged his knee. Stan groaned and was about to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but he was kicked again, harder this time. “I know you aren’t sleeping, Uris.” came Richie’s voice. Stan sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows.

“What did you come to blabber about this time? I was trying to enjoy the only silent time I get.”

“I know shit about my friends.”

“What do you know? That we all pretend to laugh at your jokes?”

Richie was now squatting in front of Stan and he pulled the cigarette from his mouth. Blowing smoke to the side so it didn’t get in Stan’s face, he shook his head. “I know that you and Eddie hate cigarettes. Eddie thinks he’ll get lung cancer from looking at one. You think they’re dirty.”

“Again it doesn’t take a genius to know that.”

“You can identify birds by just their call. You’ve been trying to see a band-tailed pigeon for the last six months. You shower in the mornings because you hate how it feels when your pillow gets wet from your hair. In second grade you carried your bird book around everywhere and when Henry Bowers stepped on it you wanted to cry, but you didn’t. You picked it up and walked away because you knew that crying would only make the situation worse. You hate when it snows because it only reminds you of that time your face was rubbed in the snow and you refuse to walk home alone now.”

Stan was silent, eyes trained on Richie’s as Richie recounted what he knew. Richie paused and tried to gauge Stan’s reaction. When he couldn’t read Stan’s face, he took another drag of his cigarette and continued.

“You pretend to hate comic books but I know you read over my shoulder when we’re all hanging out. You won’t tell us what your favorite band is because you insist that there are much better things to invest your time in but I know you own every Grateful Dead album. You pretend that we’re all too childish but you wish that you could let go like the rest of us. You want to let your guard down and feel like a kid again but you’re so fucking scared of getting hurt that you have to act like you’re an adult.”

“You’re missing something.”

“Is anything good enough for you, Stanley? I know a lot about you. I know you better than I know anyone. I know that when you’re lying you tap your ring finger and your thumb together three times. I know that when you’re happy you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. When you’re mad you tug at your hair and wrap the curls around your fingers which only makes you angrier because you think it makes you look messy. When you’re sad you like to be close to someone, but you’ll never admit it. You’ll just pout until someone asks you what’s wrong. I can read you like a book and I hate reading.”

“You’re still missing something.”

“What am I missing that you clearly want me to know?”

“How can you tell if I’m in love?”

“You’ve never been in love. You think it’ll distract you from what’s important, but in reality you’re scared of letting yourself be vulnerable to someone. You know that love is a mess and heartbreak is messier. You’re scared of making a mess that you won’t be able to clean up.”

Sitting up, Stan inched closer and pushed Richie’s hand that was holding a cigarette away from the two of them. His eyes flicked down to Richie’s lips before they met his once again. They were magnified by his glasses and Stan wondered how they could possibly already be dirty again. “Some messes need to be made.”

“What are you saying?”

Stan bit his cheek and then laughed softly when he realized that Richie would know exactly what he was doing. Closing his eyes for a moment, Stan took a deep breath and hoped he could inhale courage before he leaned in to gently press his lips against Richie’s chapped lips. He didn’t know how Richie could taste like strawberry soda. The two had been together all day and Stan knew that Richie didn’t drink any strawberry soda.


End file.
